


paint me like one of your Faerghan girls

by isamaar



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Modern Era, Sylvain has history flirting with his horse so he gets a tattoo of her, Sylvix Secret Santa 2019, bad parent-child relationship, beta'd but still dead like glenn, but there absolutely is a good ending, ghosting??? ghosting, is it even a surprise that Sylvain hates his parents?, minor heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isamaar/pseuds/isamaar
Summary: The day of the first session, Sylvain pulled up to the shop feeling quite nervous. It was exhilarating. It reminded him of when he got his first piercing, his tongue piercing. He cleared his throat, grabbing his bag filled with things he thought would help pass the time during the session. Phone charger, a novel he had been meaning to finish, a snack that Annette and Mercedes had packed for him to have in between meals.The other reason why he was nervous was the fact that he had no idea what the tattoo would look like. Hugo insisted on keeping it a secret over text messages, reassuring him that he would very much love the design. He trusted his tattoo artist. After all, he was known for some of the best work he’d seen.Sylvain pushed the door open, seeing Linhardt and Bernadetta at the front desk. He waved at the two of them; Linhardt waved lazily and turned the page of the catalogue he was skimming and Bernadetta let out a frightful squeak before rushing off somewhere to the back of the shop.Before he could say a word, the lanky, pale man stopped him. “She’s always like that. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Hugo will be right with you.”“Right, thanks.” Sylvain awkwardly sat down on the couch, waiting.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64
Collections: Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	paint me like one of your Faerghan girls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itch/gifts).



> Thank you to mememe2595, leviicorpus, and spills for beta-ing this fic for me! To my giftee, Itch, I hope you like what I did with your prompts! Enjoy!

Sylvain slammed the front door right in his father’s furiously scarlet face. He could feel his own face burning with rage. He was so tired of catering to his father. He was fed up with catering to a familial duty that he didn’t want any part of. Sylvain wanted to live. He didn’t want to be tied down by severely outdated marriage and inheritance ideals. He wanted to break out of the vision that was associated with the name “Gautier”.

“SYLVAIN JOSÉ GAUTIER, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” Wolfgang Gautier roared.

Sylvain glanced over his shoulder just before he pulled his motorcycle helmet on. He turned the key, the bike’s engine humming to life as he stuck his leather gloved middle finger up at his infuriated father before peeling dangerously out of the driveway. The loud hum of his Ducati rang in his ears and throughout the multi-million-dollar neighborhood, drowning out his father’s slicing words echoing in his head.

 _Useless, good-for-nothing! Your art is subpar and amounts to nothing! The best you’ll ever do for this family in your lifetime is to have my grandchild!_ That was what Margrave Gautier had hissed at him not even 5 minutes prior to their shouting match and Sylvain storming out of the Gautier estate to ride into town, heated and angry and hurt that his own father would lash him with such scathing words. Not that Margrave Gautier was a good man or a good father. Sylvain grew up hearing those words being spit at Miklan. Sylvain was always the favorite child between the two brothers.

Sylvain gripped his motorcycle’s handles, feeling tears threatening to form in his eyes. He could not care less about the fact that his father called him useless or good-for-nothing. The one thing in life that he had the most pride in was his art. It wasn’t anything avant-garde or absurdly abstract; pieces that “art aficionados” would easily drop millions on They were simple portraits of daily life, people, and scenery. They were things that brought him personal joy. Painting family portraits was also good money, but not anything that would pay millions.

Sylvain rode around the city, not sure where his final destination was. He wove in and out of traffic almost recklessly. Sylvain’s body felt both hot and cold, only feeling his own body heat baking within the riding leathers he wore and the rush of the warm early summer air whipping around him.

He accelerated, becoming a mere blur to passersby now that he was on an open stretch of highway with no other vehicles around him. When he finally had the sense to look at the mile markers around him, he realized that he was near Mercie and Annette’s apartment. He slowed down to a reasonable speed and exited the highway. Mercie and Annette were sure to be home right now. They always had an open door for him no matter what. He did have a spare key to their place, after all.

\--

Sylvain might have been many things—a womanizer, a good for nothing, useless—however, he wasn’t the type of person to waltz into someone’s home whether or not he had a key to their front door. Thankfully, Mercedes and Annette were already on their balcony outside when he parked. He pulled off his helmet and waved, forcing a smile onto his face as he swung his leg off of his bike and started toward the house.

Mercedes met him at the front door. “Something’s wrong, isn’t there?” she asked, seeing the weary expression on Sylvain’s face that he failed to cover up for a fraction of a second.

“Heh, yeah, you caught me,” he said, letting his shoulders slump a little, the grin on his face faltering into the sad, yet charming smile he defaulted to when he was overwhelmed. “Just… familial problems.”

“Come in. Let me make you some tea,” Mercedes offered, stepping out of his way. "You know I'm always here for you."

"Classic Mercedes," Sylvain laughed under his breath, though it lacked his usual bright energy. He politely hung his sweaty helmet and jacket up on the coat rack, quietly apologizing to everyone and no one in particular if he was a bit smelly and quite damp from riding.

Mercedes started a kettle on the stove while she pulled out Sylvain’s favorite flavor of tea. 

“Tell me all about it,” Mercie prompted, her kind features helping Sylvain let down his guard, helping him become more vulnerable in the moment.

“Well.” Sylvain raked his hand through his perfectly styled messy locks, letting out a frustrated groan or growl, or a combination of both. “My father’s being my father!”

He screamed through his teeth, throwing his head back as his hands momentarily tightened into fists before he flopped backward onto Mercie’s couch. He dug his leather gloved palms into his eyeballs, making himself see colors and stars behind his eyelids.

“He doesn’t get it! He doesn’t get that I don’t _want_ the Gautier fame, the Gautier fortune, the baggage and the responsibility that comes with it! I want to make _art_ and live my life! I don’t want to be tied down to a stupid company that I don’t give a shit about!”

Mercedes nodded sagely as she turned her electric kettle on, before kneeling by Sylvain’s head on the floor. Gentle fingers removed his hands from his face and squeezed them reassuringly. She didn’t need to say a thing as he kept pouring his heart out to her.

“I don’t want to… be what he wants me to be, Merce…” Sylvain sighed, opening his eyes to see stars and blots of color fill his vision and fade as he stared at her popcorn ceiling.

He let go of her hands and shook his head, cautiously sitting up in a way where he couldn’t possibly injure her in any way as he propped himself up on his elbow, then his hand. He massaged the bridge of his nose.

“I know exactly how you feel, Sylvain.” Mercedes sighed, her pretty lashes just resting on her dewy cheeks as she brushed a lock of hair from her face and behind her ear. “My father is nothing like yours, but he had the same expectations your father has of you. I declined to have any part of it. I was lucky enough to have him understand me and let me go.”

Sylvain glanced at Mercedes, his old friend, the older sibling he wished he had instead of a certain alienated, unhelpful, partially malicious brother. He held out his hand to help her up onto her feet.

He smiled softly at Mercedes, squeezing her hand slightly before letting go of it. “I’m glad you get me, Mercedes. If I wasn’t smart enough to know that you’re not into men, I would’ve asked you to marry me a long time ago.” He winked at her playfully.

Mercedes giggled and gently backhanded his shoulder. “You have proposed to me, silly,” she reminded him.

“Ah, and you wounded me so.” Sylvain clutched at his chest to feign pain and let out another laugh. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

“I’m here to listen.” Mercedes patted Sylvain’s head with a fond smile like a mother would her child when the electric tea kettle beeped, indicating that the water was just hot enough for their tea leaves.

As Mercedes steeped their tea, Sylvain laid back down on the couch, staring up at that awful popcorn ceiling. It wasn’t until he heard the clinking of Mercedes’ favorite tea set being set down on the coffee table that he sat up again to take his cup.

“Thanks, Mercie.” He sipped the hot, fragrant liquid, the warmth radiating through him like a breath of warm, coastal air. Sylvain was always thankful that Mercedes was a good friend despite their relationship starting off somewhat rocky.

When Sylvain finished his cup, he thanked Mercedes once more and laid back down. “Don’t mind me, I’m just… letting myself calm down a bit.”

“No problem, take your time,” Mercedes insisted just before she sipped once more from her cup.

Sylvain didn’t keep track of how much time went by. He closed his eyes to let them rest for a while, to stew up the ultimate revenge plan to piss off his father for the last time. That’s when it hit him.

“Mercie, you went and got a tattoo last year, right?” He sat up to look at the kind, blonde beauty who had taken up a third cup of tea.

She stopped short of sipping from her cup before gently placing it back down. “Well, yes, but I did it because I wanted one.”

Mercedes’ elegant fingers flipped her hair over her shoulder before she lifted her shirt just shy of her breasts. The tattoo that was etched into her beautiful, porcelain skin was equally as beautiful. A beautiful, jeweled fleur de lis permanently drawn onto her skin that curled down into a beautiful floral brocade of beautifully stylized easter lilies, red carnations, and pink roses, silhouetting her breasts perfectly.

Sylvain sat up, a bit taller, ogling at the tattoo rather than the white swath of skin that tempted him in the tiniest way. Mentally, he had to beat back the brainless womanizer to remind himself that Mercedes was a friend not a woman who he could just toss away like he usually did.

“I had to wait a year and a half for an appointment with him.” Mercedes had the softest, purest smile as she recalled the sessions.

Blinking, Sylvain looked back up at her face, his expression puzzled. “With who?”

“Hugo Loup. He’s the tattoo artist who did Mercie’s tattoo,” Annette chimed in, as she stepped through the sliding door from the balcony where she was lounging up until now. She sat next to Mercedes on their loveseat, pulling her knees to her chest. “He’s a bit icy and cold, but he does amazing tattoo work! He did my hip tattoo here.”

Annette pulled up the right side of her shorts to reveal a watercolor, semi-realistic portrait of a cat. A family cat, Sylvain assumed.

“That’s impressive,” Sylvain whistled, leaning in a bit to get a closer look. “The lines are clean and the colors are still really vibrant.” He glanced up at Annette, who let go of her shorts. “So, this guy is that good, huh? How much did the tattoos cost?” The two women looked at each other, an expression of pure _yikes_ written across their faces.

“Well, my underbust tattoo took about 6 hours? He charges a lot per hour," Mercedes recalled. "It was something like $150 or $200 an hour on top of a baseline fee depending on how large the piece is. Either way, he tells you how much he’ll charge at the consultation and how many sessions it should take."

“His name’s Hugo Loup. He runs Loup Ink. Look him up on Insta!” Annette plopped herself down next to Sylvain as he did just that.

He whistled, thumbing through all of his works. Sylvain wondered if he’d photographed his earlier work, too. 

“Gotta follow him,” he said as his thumb tapped the follow button before turning his phone off. He finally felt like he wasn’t stressed anymore with the idea of a tattoo.

“Wait, Syl, go back really quick,” Annette said, pointing at his phone. “That latest post is brand new! Check it real quick to see if it’s an appointment opening!”

“Wha? Okay, sure.” He turned his phone back on and tapped on the first post. The photo itself was a collage of Hugo’s best works, but the caption was what caught his attention the most. It read:

ATTENTION: Now open for a SINGLE artist-liberty piece. Medium to large pieces only. Payment up front after consultation. No payment plans. Email me for inquiries. DO NOT DM. DMS WILL BE IGNORED.

hugo.loup@loupink.com

“Huh, it’s an ad,” both Annette and Sylvain stated before glancing at each other, then at Mercedes who was rinsing out the teacups at the sink.

“Guess I’ll email him.” Sylvain shrugged as he copied the address and pasted it into a new email.

“Well, here goes nothing. ‘Dear Mr. Hugo’,” Sylvain verbalized as he started to type, “‘I just started following you on Instagram when I saw your ad. I’ve never had a tattoo before, but I’m willing to pay 100% up front. Looking forward to working with you. Sylvain Gautier.’” His honeyed eyes glanced at Annette, who was staring intently at his phone, nodding sagely. “Sounds good?”

Annette nodded with finality “Sounds good to me. Send it off.”

Sylvain’s finger hovered over the send button, hesitating for a long moment before pressing it. He hoped he would hear from Hugo Loup soon.

\--

Felix sat in one of the tattoo chairs in the open parlor, one leg crossed as he sat on his iPad, watching the emails trickle in before switching to Procreate to stare at the blank, untouched digital canvas for a while longer. He spun the Apple pen around his dexterous scarred and inked fingers.

“I still don’t think diving head-first into a larger piece after a really bad art block is a good idea,” Linhardt droned from the front desk, not even 15 feet away from Felix. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll put a bad piece on your client—“

“Well, I wasn’t until you mentioned it,” Felix snapped sourly, scowling at the green-haired man. “Stop nagging me.. I’ll do what I want. If they don’t like it, then I’ll offer a free cover-up. As shitty as that is.”

Linhardt gave a muffled yawn before seeming to fall asleep in front of Felix. The senior artist shook his head and looked down at the messy digital canvas. He scowled and sighed to himself before he decided to swipe up and check his emails.

 _This person didn’t read the post. This person didn’t read the post. This person also didn’t read my post._ Felix scowled deeper, the corner of his lip snarling in disgust. “Can people not read? If you’re going to say ‘I can’t afford all up front’ then I’m not going to consider you,” he scoffed, before opening the newest email.

“And this guy is a newbie at tattoos. But he will be able to pay up front.” He raked a tattooed hand through his hair, but the silence told him that Linhardt had fallen asleep. Again.

“Well, he’s the only one that fits the bill so far…” He rapped the Apple pen on his knee as his other hand rubbed his chin. He flipped the beaten up cover of his iPad before setting it on the table next to him to check the schedule for today. He wasn’t slotted to have anyone until 6. He snatched up his iPad once more.

“Let’s see if this guy is available for 4 today…” He leaned over at the secondary computer and typed away at the keyboard furiously.

“Good Afternoon,

I have an opening today at 4pm for a consultation. Please call the shop at XXX-XXX-XXXX and ask for me to set it up or respond to this email as soon as possible.

Thank you,

Hugo Loup,” Felix muttered to himself as he typed out the email, sending it off without hesitation.

He stood up straight and stretched with a tired grunt before sauntering to his iPad to snatch it up, and strode into his private tattoo suite to wallow in his lack of creativity. Despite having a slow day so far, Felix was already exhausted from the mental hurdles of trying to get out of this artist block. It was killing him. Sure, he’d work on clients and they would be happy, but he wasn’t particularly happy with his work. He was tired. He felt like he wasn’t creating anything of note. He hadn’t been happy about his pieces in months. He laid down on the table and just waited, listening for the ding notification his phone, iPad, and computer all made when an email was received.

Hopefully, that guy he replied to would respond sooner than later. Felix glanced joylessly at his desk in the corner, countless pieces of paper scattered hither and thither. He stepped over, his scarred fingers spreading over the sheets, feeling their grain, smudging the charcoal. In one sketch, crossed daggers with a scribble across it; in another, a rapier with an unfinished banner wrapping around the blade and hilt. He let out a forlorn sigh, sitting in his office chair.

“Don’t fuck this up, Felix...” he muttered to himself as his eyes scanned over the unfinished pieces once more. He heaved a deep sigh before collapsing into the office chair just behind him, leaning back. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

\--

Felix rapped a pen against the front desk, glancing at the clock on the wall. “He’s late.,” he growled to Linhardt, though it wasn’t Linhardt who jumped, it was Bernadetta, his apprentice. “He emailed me and told me he would be here on time.”

Bernadetta stammered and squeaked, “W-well, maybe he’s stuck in traffic!”

Felix groaned. “Well, he better be here soon.”

As if on cue, a leather-clad redhead wielding a sleek, enclosed motorcycle helmet under his arm walked through the door. Felix’s brain short-circuited as the front door’s chime rang through the shop.

_Good Goddess, he’s gorgeous._

“Sorry! I’m here to see Hugo?”

 _Oh, Goddess, he’s looking for me._ Felix cleared his throat, standing up tall. “You’re late.”

The man stiffened slightly. “Oh, yeah, uh--”

“You’re Sylvain Gautier? Follow me.”

“Uh, yeah, I am. Sorry for being late, I didn’t realize how far away the shop was--”

“Shut it. Let’s get this consultation started before you waste any more of my time.” Felix opened the door, gesturing the tall redhead inside with a jerk of his head.

Sylvain nodded quickly, walking in as he shrugged off his leather jacket. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo done before.”

“So you mentioned in your email.” Felix noticed Sylvain’s ears redden slightly as he pulled out a chair for him. He gestured a heavily inked hand for the new client to sit down. “Let’s talk about your first tattoo.” He snatched up his iPad and twirled his Apple pencil as he trained his eyes on Sylvain. “What were you thinking of getting done?”

Sylvain tensed slightly at Felix’s icy tone before forcing himself to relax, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I was thinking something big. Really big. Something that’ll really piss my dad off.”

Felix’s fingers fumbled, dropping his Apple pencil onto the floor in surprise. “Piss off your dad? What are you, 12 or something?” He bent over and picked up the pen again, his face reddening with mild embarrassment from the fumble.

“I mean—” a grin spread across Sylvain’s infuriatingly attractive face “—I guess you can say that I never grew up.”

The tattoo artist scowled deeply. “Well, if you’re actually 12, then get out of my shop.” He rolled his eyes as he pulled his chair up and sat in it. Crossing his legs, Felix tucked the Apple pencil behind his ear. “But, since I know you aren’t actually a prepubescent child, let’s talk. What are your hobbies?”

Felix could see the gears turning in Sylvain’s head as his hand rubbed his chin in deep thought. Looking at Sylvain for a bit longer now, he was a pretty boy. Too pretty. Felix had the strong itch to etch onto his skin something just as pretty as he was. But not effeminate if he didn’t desire so. Felix's impression of Sylvain didn't pinpoint him to be type to like extremely effeminate things at this point in time.

“Well, I paint,” the redhead started, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess that’s an applicable hobby. I also ride horses. Well, used to. Haven’t been out to ride my girl, Gorgeous, for a long time now. It’s been at least a few years.”

“You ride?” Felix asked, raising an eyebrow. “You definitely don’t look the part.” 

Sylvain let out a laugh that was music to Felix’s ears, much to his chagrin. “I got that a lot. I was pretty good at riding.”

“Did you just ride or did you compete?”

“I competed. Dressage, high-jumping, cross-country, I did it all for fun. I haven’t competed in a while, though, because of university and other things, and my dad.” Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I used to do a lot of riding. Now I just paint. Nothing fancy, just portraits of people for the money.”

“Huh, well, I can work with that. Do you ride wyverns or pegasi?” Felix inquired as he pulled up a new canvas to sketch an idea.

The redhead shook his head. “Just a normal horse.” Sylvain laughed. “I never got the chance to. I sincerely wish I did, though. Wyverns are such regal creatures, pegasi as well. But I would never trade my Swift’s Gorgeous Dark Omen for sky rides.”

“Swift’s Gorgeous Dark--” Felix closed his eyes as he collected himself for a short moment. “I’m not going to ask why you picked such a pretentious name. What’s your horse look like?”

“Gorgeous’s name isn’t pretentious! She’s the best out there!” Sylvain retorted in good spirits.

However, when Felix looked up from the start of his sketch, he saw Sylvain’s expression soften with nostalgia as he recalled what his prized mare looked like. “She’s a black Lusitano horse, with a small blaze across her nose like this.” Sylvain dragged a finger across the bridge of his nose. “And she has the softest velvet nose.”

As Sylvain described his horse, Felix sketched out a basic design, skilled, loose lines filling the digital canvas before him. After a few minutes, he turned to show Sylvain. “Here’s what I’ve got so far.” Sylvain leaned in to get a better look. “It’s not going to be exactly this, but something around this idea here. I was thinking all three riding animals. We’ll start with the wyvern first here in your upper left shoulder, flying downward toward a depiction of your horse across your low back, and that horse following up after the pegasus in your upper right shoulder. What do you think?”

Sylvain marveled at the sketch, amazed at how quick he was getting a basic concept down. “That looks and sounds amazing. I would be happy to have this done! How much? I’m willing to pay--”

Felix held up his hand. "You know this will take several sessions, right?" One pierced eyebrow quirked. "This is quite the piece for a first-timer. Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"

The inky-haired tattooist leaned back slightly, watching Sylvain shrug nonchalantly. "You know, I figure that if I can take getting piercings done, I can take a thousand needle pokes to the skin."

"You have piercings?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," Sylvain practically purred as he gave a flirtatious wink, sticking out his tongue with a flash of silver for a moment before it retreated back behind his luscious lips.

Felix couldn't help but blink owlishly. "Goddess, I would not have guessed someone like you would have piercings--"

"Oh, it's more than just this one, but I'm afraid you're going to have to unlock a level of friendship for that,” the redhead laughed, with a wide grin across his face.

Felix felt a blush creep across his cheeks before clearing his throat. "Well, anyway. This will take several sessions. My rate right now is $200 per hour while working on the tattoo. I know I said all up front, but I was not expecting such a large tattoo, in all honesty." Furrowing his brow, he looked back down at the design. "Let's go out front, have you sign a consent contract, and set up your first appointment."

\--

The day of the first session, Sylvain pulled up to the shop feeling quite nervous. It was exhilarating. It reminded him of when he got his first piercing, his tongue piercing. He cleared his throat, grabbing his bag filled with things he thought would help pass the time during the session. Phone charger, a novel he had been meaning to finish, a snack that Annette and Mercedes had packed for him to have in between meals.

The other reason why he was nervous was the fact that he had no idea what the tattoo would look like. Hugo insisted on keeping it a secret over text messages, reassuring him that he would very much love the design. He trusted his tattoo artist. After all, he was known for some of the best work he’d seen.

Sylvain pushed the door open, seeing Linhardt and Bernadetta at the front desk. He waved at the two of them; Linhardt waved lazily and turned the page of the catalogue he was skimming and Bernadetta let out a frightful squeak before rushing off somewhere to the back of the shop.

Before he could say a word, the lanky, pale man stopped him. “She’s always like that. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Hugo will be right with you.”

“Right, thanks.” Sylvain awkwardly sat down on the couch, waiting for Hugo to come and get him.

He glanced around the shop, finally able to take in the decorations. It was sleek, classy, and somewhat medieval all at the same time. Ancient swords and shields of old hung on the walls. Old tomes of magic long gone sat up on the high shelves, the spines just holding together, the pages yellowed. In the far back, a lance mounted high on the wall glinted in the studio lighting. He couldn’t help but feel his breath be stolen away at the sight.

“Sylvain.” Hugo’s baritone tremor caught his attention away from studying all the pieces of history around the shop. “Come on back. I’m fixing one last thing on the wyvern before we get started. You can start getting comfortable in here.”

“Cool, yeah, I’m coming.” He practically jumped to his feet to follow Hugo back into his private studio.

“Go ahead and put down and get out what you want to entertain yourself with. Take off your shirt and lay down on your stomach on there.” Hugo pointed at the client chair that had been manipulated flat like a bed for Sylvain to lay down upon.

The redhead nodded and put down his bag by the wall, taking out the novel before taking off his shirt, laying it on the bag before lying flat on the cold table.

“Just give me a few moments, I need to prep the flash sheet. That being said...” He slid his iPad over to Sylvain with a breathtaking piece of art on it.

“Is this...?” Sylvain’s mouth fell open at how gorgeous the image was.

“Yeah, that’s going to be your tattoo.” A sly smirk ghosted onto Hugo’s face before turning to work on something.

Before Sylvain was a depiction of the three mounts chasing each other in an eternal circle. The wyvern’s scales seemed to jump off the screen, the feathered wings of the pegasus skirting the edge of reality, the portrait of Gorgeous a stunning spitting image of her in her jet black beauty.

“This… looks amazing. It’s...” Sylvain whispered as he zoomed in to look at the details of all the floral accents and nods to their Faerghus and Fódlan heritage; the Fódlan knots, spirals, and triskelions decorating the spaces between the three riding beasts.

“I’m actually quite proud of it. I haven’t exactly been proud of my last few pieces, but… I’m genuinely glad that you like it.”

Sylvain couldn’t see Hugo’s face as he was turned away, arranging his inks, his paper towels, and all his tools on the tray with gloved hands.

“I’m honored to be the canvas for something that you’re so proud of,” Sylvain said softly, fondly, watching Hugo as his nimble, inked hands assembled and filled the tattoo machine at last. Hugo’s lips were moving, but Sylvain couldn't quite catch the words, too lost in his basking of the artist's modified beauty. The way the ring, perfectly centered on his lower lip, enticed him. The subconscious quirk of his eyebrow, punctuated by the spiked piercing as it glimmering in the studio lighting, tempted him... 

“Anyway, we’ll get started soon. I just have to transfer the lineart onto your back. Let’s hope your body holds up for the whole duration of lining.”

Sylvain snapped back to reality from admiring the sheer beauty and poise that was Hugo. He cleared his throat and nodded while he flashed a playful grin at the tattoo artist. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Can’t wait to be stabbed a million times a minute to get this gorgeous piece on me.”

Hugo rolled his eyes as he replaced his gloves with a fresh pair, the snap of the neoprene against his skin sending a shiver down Sylvain’s spine.

“Lay flat so I can prep and transfer the lineart onto your skin.” Hugo rolled over on his stool with a large piece of transfer paper, laying it on another table nearby before wiping Sylvain’s back down and shaving down any fine hairs he had that could impede the tattooing process.

It was hard for Sylvain to stay quiet, anxious about the fact that if he breathed too hard or fidgeted at the most inopportune moment, he would mess up the transfer paper. It wasn’t until Hugo told him to breathe that Sylvain realized that he was holding his breath.

“Sorry,” he laughed, “I didn’t want to mess you up or anything.”

“You’re fine. It’s all down, anyway. You can relax. I’m going to start with the wyvern first.” With a whir, the tattoo machine came to life.

A warm hand rested on Sylvain’s shoulder, holding the skin just taught enough for Hugo to put the needle down. “I’m going to start.”

“R-right,” Sylvain said, watching Hugo in the mirror in front of him. He looked so focused, his sharp eyes trained on his back, the blank canvas about to be etched with Hugo’s touch, his mark.

The redhead tensed, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he felt the sharp needle pierce his skin. It wasn’t long after that Hugo pulled away. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! It just surprised me. I’ll be okay. Keep going.” Sylvain flashed another smile at him before settling down and opening up the bookmarked page in the novel he was reading.

It wasn’t long until the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, only the buzz of the machine and the rhythmic prick of the needle filling Sylvain’s senses. Every once in a while, the buzzing would stop, Hugo would refill the ink chamber or he would wipe down any blood, before the feeling of scratchy velcro resumed. It was nice to feel like he didn’t need to fill the silence.

“So, Hugo, what do you like to do outside of art and tattoos and piercings?”

“I like working out. It helps me blow off steam when I need to.”

“That’s pretty cool. I work out pretty often because, yeah, I agree. Working out helps with my stress most of the time.”

“You said you were an artist, too, right? A painter?”

“Yeah, I paint. What, would you like me to paint you like a Faerghus girl?” He looked up into the full length mirror, seeing Hugo glaring and glowering down at him as Sylvain returned the look with a playful, even flirty wink and a laugh.

“I’m joking, don’t look at me like that.” He couldn’t hide his grin. “Though, I would love to paint you one day if you’d let me.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Sylvain could hear the tone of amusement in Hugo’s voice. It made him feel warm and familiar like they’d known each other for years — lifetimes, even. Sylvain held onto that feeling for as long as he could, the sound of the tattoo machine buzzing. Sylvain got comfortable once more, closing his eyes for what felt like just a moment, relishing in Hugo’s warm hands pressed against him, the welcome sting of the needle reminding him that he was, in fact, alive. Alive and well. 

Before Sylvain knew it, he was being shaken awake. He blinked as he opened his eyes, seeing Hugo’s gorgeous face mere inches away from his. His face flushed a light pink as he sat up slightly, rubbing the sleep from his face with his forefinger and thumb.

Hugo rolled back slightly to give his client some space. “You did fall asleep. Well, we’re actually all done with the tattoo, I just need to clean you up before you can look at it.”

“Oh, awesome.” Sylvain yawned as Hugo lathered his back with an antibacterial soap before rinsing and wiping it away with a soft cloth.

Sylvain was handed a black hand mirror once he was able to sit up. He stretched his neck and yawned once more before getting onto his feet.

Hugo stood off to the side with his arms crossed. He jerked his head toward the full body mirror. “Take a look.”

Sylvain turned around and lifted the hand mirror to get a good look at the tattoo. His jaw dropped. The lines were so crisp and beautiful. The scales of the wyvern looked so lifelike; the pegasus’ wings had the most beautiful shape. Sylvain’s breath was taken away as he laid eyes on the full body portrait of Gorgeous galloping across his lower back. He put a hand over his mouth, speechless. He craned his head over his shoulder to check if it was actually still him.

“This… This is amazing!” he exclaimed. “It’s perfect!”

Hugo merely chuckled. “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of it myself. Let me take a few pictures and a video of it. I’ll send it to you so you can get a better look. Then I can bandage it.”

After Hugo took pictures of the lineart and the details, he laid plastic wrap on the fresh tattoo and taped it down, and briefly talked about how to take care of the tattoo. “I’ll give you a bottle of lotion for you to put on your back, and a tool to be able to reach all the parts of your back. Keep it well moisturized and _do not scratch it._ ”

“I got it. I’ll take good care of it until the next session, Hugo. Thanks.” Sylvain flashed his charming grin at him.

Hugo turned and cleared his throat. “Let’s set up your next appointment for the shading. Can’t do it all in one session.”

“Oh, sure! Can’t wait.” The redhead pulled his shirt on, wincing at the soreness in his back. He picked up his bag, carrying it as he followed Hugo. Sylvain genuinely couldn’t wait for his next session.

\--

The days that led up to the next session were filled with frequent texts between Felix and Sylvain. Sylvain had seemed like the type to be flirty, and he heavily played that card quite often through text, sending kissy emojis and wink emojis frequently. The strangest thing, though, was that Felix actually didn’t mind it. In fact, he quite enjoyed Sylvain’s playful and flirty nature. It was different.

“You’re smiling,” a flat, unamused voice pointed out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hevring.” Felix quickly wiped the quirked smile off his face to glower at Linhardt.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about. Are you texting Sylvain again?”

Felix’s face turned red as he sputtered in surprise. “Why do you care if I am?”

Blue eyes glanced at him, studied him for a moment, before looking back down at his novel. “Well, I care because my boss isn’t crabby and bitter any longer.”

His mouth opened to say something and his eyebrows knit tight together before he clamped his lips shut. Felix was aware Linhardt was trying to compliment him. He wasn’t going to scold him for that. So, instead, he squeezed his nose bridge and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Linhardt droned. “It’s been a while since you’ve gone on a date where you didn’t scare them away with how you usually act.”

“Linhardt!” Bernadetta gasped. “That’s so rude! Don’t say that about Felix!” she squeaked, her face turning red in embarrassment as it always did when she addressed another living person.

“Sure,” Felix said, stunning both of his employees into silence. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back into the chair, tucking his hands behind his head. “If I do, and he accepts, you’re buying lunch for a week. If he turns me down, I’ll set up an official nap room for you in the back. And I won’t get mad at you for taking naps during the day for three months.”

“I… sure, that seems like a fair deal. However, you have to ask him before he finishes his last session here,” Linhardt managed to say after he’d recovered from the fact that Felix, his boss, a man with the reputation of being unfriendly, aloof, and indifferent to people of all kinds, had initiated this type of wager.

Felix scowled. “Deal. I’ll ask him before his last session."

\--

Later that afternoon, Sylvain arrived on time, flashing charming grins at the other clients, Linhardt, and Bernadetta alike. “Afternoon! Is Hugo in his parlor?”

Linhardt glanced up and nodded. “Yeah, he should be ready for you. Go on back.”

With a charismatic thanks, Sylvain sauntered to Hugo’s parlor room, knocking on the door frame. Hugo was at his desk, organizing it, inky blue hair cascading over one shoulder as he shoved a stack of unfinished sketches into a desk. He glanced over at the redhead briefly before standing and stretching for a moment.

"Oh, good, you're here on time." Hugo straightened up and tied his hair up into that iconic bun he loved to wear.

"Yup! Raring to be at your mercy." Sylvain grinned and bowed theatrically, making Hugo roll his eyes.

The tattoo artist turned on the faucet and scrubbed his hands. "Your healing is going pretty well, right? No problems over the last three weeks?"

"None at all."

"Perfect." Hugo dried his hands with paper towels before donning the neoprene gloves with a snap. "Take off your shirt and lie down."

"Anything you say, Hugo," the client cheekily laughed as he peeled his t-shirt off and laid it on his bag.

"It's Felix," the shop owner replied nonchalantly as he checked all of the equipment on his table tray. He could feel Sylvain's confusion behind him.

"Felix?"

"That's my actual name."

"Oh."

Felix filled the ink chamber with the black ink he was going to fill Gorgeous in with. "Working on shading today, so it shouldn’t feel as bad as the lines.”

“Oh, cool, can’t wait!” Sylvain sounded so enthusiastic that it kind of made Felix feel a sort of déjà vu in a nostalgic way.

As Sylvain sat down and got himself comfortable just before lying on his stomach, Felix spied the familiar glint of metal on the client’s chest. “You really do have more piercings,” Felix thought out loud, earning a warm, flirtatious glance in his direction.

“Oh, these?” Sylvain sat up again, silver glinting from just under both of his collar bones and his nipples. “I definitely have more than these.”

The redhead winked suggestively as he laid back down on his stomach to get comfortable. Felix hardly blushed at the flirtatious wink. He’d seen people be pierced by Linhardt in worse places, after all. However, the mystery made him all the more curious, but he kept that curiosity in check.

“What about you? Any more piercings other than the ones on your brow and lip?” Sylvain asked as the tattoo machine hummed a few times while Felix made sure that it was firing correctly.

Felix briefly prepped Sylvain’s skin as he replied, “Nipples and obviously ears.” He gestured at his heavily pierced and accessorized ear, pointing at the bar in his left ear. “My favorite one is the industrial bar here.”

“That’s pretty cool. Maybe I’ll get my ears pierced one day. Seems like more of a pain than the other parts I’ve gotten done.”

Felix let out a huff of a laugh as he started to shade Gorgeous. “Let me know if you have any pain or discomfort or anything.”

Sylvain merely nodded as they fell into a comfortable, familiar silence. Felix had been refilling the ink chamber of the tattoo gun when the taller man piped up again. “So, what got you into tattoos and piercings, Hugo?”

“Just call me Felix.”

“Oh, Felix, right. What got you into all this?” Since his lower back was what was being worked on, Sylvain gestured toward the entirety of the shop.

Felix hummed slightly as he considered the question. “Well, I guess my older brother got me into it. He had gone and gotten a tongue piercing with a friend of his when I was a kid and my father was so angry with him when he showed it off. I think my mother fainted.” He scoffed a laugh as he shook his head.

“I remember thinking to myself, ‘I want to make my parents just as mad, I want one just like that’. Last thing he did before…” Felix pulled the tattoo gun away from Sylvain’s skin, taking his foot off the pedal. “Last thing he did before he died was get this tattoo design.”

Felix rolled over, showing Sylvain his forearm. It was an image of a longsword with the tip pointing down toward his palm, the name Glenn Fraldarius and the words _In Memoriam_ arced along the tip of the blade. “It was my first tattoo when I turned 16. Don’t ask me how I got it before I was 18.”

“I won’t ask,” Sylvain chuckled. “Sorry to hear about your brother.”

“It’s been a long time. I’ve had time to come to terms with it.” Felix started to work on Gorgeous again. “You said you wanted this tattoo to piss your old man off. Why?”

Felix felt Sylvain heave a sigh under his hands. “He wants me to inherit the stupid business. I don’t want anything to do with it. So we kind of shared a few… Well, a lot of words. Loudly. Deafening.”

Sylvain was quiet for a moment as he considered his next words. “My father is the CEO of Gautier Inc. When I was a kid, my dad told me I was going to inherit the company. I have an older brother whose hands he doesn’t want the company going into..." 

As Sylvain talked about his personal life, Felix continued to shade Gorgeous, a quiet and courteous listener. He shaded and wiped his freckled skin down.

“I was raised as the next Gautier CEO. I had — well, still have so many strict expectations on my shoulders. Be the next great CEO, marry a rich, beautiful girl and have kids, bring them up for them to inherit the company from me. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. I just, I just want to be myself, you know? Follow my own path, live my own dream. Love who I want to love. Make mistakes, be free…”

Sylvain had been moving his arms and was making it difficult for Felix to put anything down. When he finally stopped fidgeting he was able to finish the last part of shading Gorgeous’ hindquarters.

“I completely understand. After my brother died, my father couldn’t see me for me. Which is why I’m here doing what I’m doing now. Creating permanent art on other people.” Felix wiped his face with his shoulder, clearing his throat slightly. “Dad pushed me to be like Glenn, but I pretty much said ‘fuck you’ and went and started tattooing.”

“I wish I could do that.”

“What’s stopping you?”

In the mirror in front of Sylvain, Felix could see the internal struggle as he tried to think of a quantifiable answer to Felix’s loaded question. The tattoo artist continued to shade and bring depth to the piece as Sylvain contemplated quietly. The only thing that filled the silence was the hum of the machine and the music in the background.

Felix finished shading Gorgeous and was starting to work on the wyvern when Sylvain finally said, “I’m scared, I guess.”

Felix took his foot off the pedal and took his hand away from Sylvain’s back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Sylvain ruffled his bright red hair. “What will happen if I cut off my family? Am I ready for that?”

Felix shrugged. “You can always find out. Being afraid of failure is normal. Wanting the best for yourself is normal. You just have to take the plunge.” He pressed on the pedal once more, resuming the detailing on the wyvern. “Either way, you’re ultimately in control of what decisions you make. Just like this tattoo and your piercings. They’re your decisions that you’re glad to live with.”

“Yeah… You’re right, but I think I need to figure out how to go about that.” Sylvain breathed.

The rest of the session was quiet, focused. Felix was able to finish the shading in a reasonable time. He washed Sylvain clean and placed the film dressing on over the whole piece.

“Hey, Hugo? Oh, um, Felix?” Sylvain said as he was pulling his t-shirt on.

Felix was cleaning and replacing his ink bottles away, disposing of what he needed to. He turned to Sylvain. “Yes?”

“Would you like to hang out sometime? Like, with my group of friends and stuff.” The freshly tattooed man rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish expression on his face. “I would like to hang out with you more outside of the shop, you know?”

Felix frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose--”

“You won’t! In fact, you’ve met two of my friends already. You’ve done tattoos for them in the past. They like and respect you. That’s why I came to you for my first tattoo.” Sylvain’s smile this time was syrupy sweet and as warm as the sun.

The inked man couldn’t help but sigh, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’ll think about it.”

“Then it’s a date,” Sylvain said cheekily, his expression just as flirtatious.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Call it what you want, I’ll still be thinking about it.” He smirked up at him.

Sylvain grinned. “Then it most certainly is a date.”

“Just get out of my shop.” Felix groaned, though the warm feeling held fast to his heart. “Text me whenever you want to hang out. I’ll make it happen somehow.”

“Will do. See you sooner rather than later, Fe!” Sylvain waved as he left the shop, bidding adieu to Bernadetta and Linhardt.

Felix leaned up against the door frame of his private parlor. “Fe… Hmph… No one’s called me that in years...” he softly muttered to himself behind his hand, hiding an amused smile.

\--

Felix genuinely couldn’t wait for an invite from Sylvain now that the idea was out there, ready to come to fruition. Though whenever Sylvain did invite him out, he had an appointment to finish, or the shop would be left unattended. It left Felix a little more bitter than it usually did. The last thing he had to hope for was Sylvain coming back for the last planned session, yet, that, too, was also dashed.

For some reason, Sylvain kept cancelling his appointments. At first, it didn’t bother Felix, however, when Sylvain kept cancelling two or three days prior to the date of the appointment, it made Felix wonder. Was he okay? When he would ask if he was okay, Sylvain’s response would never reveal more than what was needed to answer him.

Then, after a while, Sylvain stopped responding altogether. Felix started to become more cold again, answering questions with an edge of anger or asking them with such disdain that he ended up frustrating himself even more.

What in the world was happening with Sylvain?

Nearly three months after last seeing Sylvain and almost a month since hearing from him, Felix lost hope. He stopped taking his own clients, letting Bernadetta deal with walk-ins, only speaking to the clientele if they were causing her great anxiety or causing trouble.

It was nearly Christmas now, snow coming down in flurries as Felix locked up the shop. He couldn’t feel his hands. He stuffed the shop keys in his pockets and brought his hands up to his mouth, trying to warm them for a moment. Vehicle lights illuminated the shop for a moment before dimmed, the crunching of snow under tires sounding like white noise to Felix now.

He pulled up his fur-lined hood, turning to walk to his own vehicle, when he heard his name shouted breathlessly. Felix turned slowly to look at who called for him. His mouth went dry as his eyes laid on Sylvain’s silhouette.

First, Felix felt relief, before anger crushed it. He scowled at the redhead. “Oh, so you ghost me for essentially three months and then decide to come back, huh?”

“Felix, listen--”

“Don’t even think about apologizing, I don’t want to hear it. If you want your damned tattoo finished, go find someone else to do it.”

“Fe--”

“Leave me _alone_ , Sylvain!” Felix whipped around, only to stumble back at how close Sylvain had gotten to him. He caught him with firm, strong hands by the shoulders, steadying him on his feet from the slip of ice just under Felix’s boots.

The dark-haired man glared up at Sylvain, snatching himself away.

“Let me explain, Felix,” Sylvain breathed. “Please.” He looked over his shoulder to the car where two women had gotten out, shivering.

Felix took a hard look at Sylvain’s expression before his eyes flickered to the two women. “You made two girls drive you here in this weather?” Felix rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll let you explain, but you…”

He looked at Sylvain again. “Where’s your coat?” he asked, his brows furrowing together as his scowl deepened. “Goddess, surely you aren’t stupid enough to not wear a coat in this shitty weather, are you?”

“That’s why I need to explain everything that happened in the last few months. I need to explain everything to you.” Despite the freezing weather, Sylvain seemed to not even shudder or stutter as the winter winds whipping around them.

Felix raked his gloved hand through his hair, clicking his tongue with a deep scowl set on his mouth. “Fine, but you’re buying me dinner.”

There was hesitation on Sylvain’s face. “I… I actually can’t do that right now,” he said anxiously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sylvain, here.” The blonde woman who had come out from the driver’s side of the other car approached Sylvain with two twenty dollar bills.

“Mercie, no, I can’t--”

“Take it. Don’t worry about paying me back,” she insisted.

Before Sylvain could say any more, the woman put a finger to his lips and frowned at him, waggling the same finger in his face before quickly shuffling back to her warm car, getting in, and driving off.

Felix unlocked his SUV. “Get in before I change my mind and leave you here in the freezing cold.” He wouldn’t actually do that, but the threat was clearly heard as Sylvain quickly got into the front passenger seat.

The drive was awkward and just long enough for both men to become uncomfortable. Felix was still quite angry, though he had to do his best to not drive enraged on a potentially icy road. Sylvain shook his leg as he made a point not to look at Felix. The tattoo artist couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He couldn’t see his face, his expression, to even remotely take a guess as to what was going through the redhead’s mind.

Finally, they pulled up to an old diner, one that hadn’t aged well. The exterior was rusted over, the parking lot small and filled with potholes. The diner was Felix’s favorite late-night joint.

The shorter male hardly waited for Sylvain to follow as he got out of the vehicle and walked briskly to the door, opening it and slipping inside. Sylvain managed to keep up, but just barely.

When they both sat down, Sylvain took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Felix. Everything that’s happened is all--”

“Evening. My name is Hilda. What can I get you for a drink?” a pink haired young woman sighed, interrupting Sylvain as she stood at their table, holding her pen lazily over her notepad. “Oh, hey, Felix. You gonna order your normal meal?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes, my normal meal is fine. Bring us two coffees and waters, please. He’s going to need time to figure out what he wants.” Felix jerked his head at Sylvain, before nodding at her. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Yeah, no problem. Take all the time you need.” She sighed.

Sylvain watched her leave before looking back at Felix. The shorter man glowered at him. Opening his mouth to speak again, Sylvain took a breath and said, “I’m sincerely sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to not tell you anything.”

“Yet you could have not hidden the truth from me.”

“Yes, but I had my reasons--”

“Did you? What reasons would those be?” He hissed as he glared ruthlessly at Sylvain.

“I took your advice, alright?” Sylvain sighed. “I took your advice, said ‘fuck you’ to my dad, and lost everything in turn.”

Felix blinked, taken aback. “Wait… You took… my advice…” He glared at him with disbelief. “The part about just doing it?”

Red hair bobbed as Sylvain nodded. “Yeah. I went, ‘fuck you’ and left my parents’ house. They, I mean my dad, pulled all of his money from my bank account, sold off my bike and car, and everything else that was mine.”

Suddenly, Felix felt awful for being so mean to Sylvain.

“Which is why I had to cancel my appointments. I had no way of getting over there, or even tipping like I did.” Sylvain rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. “How could I go back knowing I couldn’t even pay you for your time?”

“You still should have told me what was going on. I could have helped out.”

“No, there’s no way. I couldn’t ask you to do anything more for me, Fe.”

“Don’t call me that,” Felix snapped. “Stop calling me that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing through his teeth. Just because he felt sorry for being mean didn’t mean that he would turn around and start being nice to someone who dropped him like that for no good reason.

“Fine, I’ll stop calling you that.” Sylvain leaned back, looking out the dirty window. “The day I stopped texting you was the day my service got cut off. And, not gonna lie, I broke my phone because I was pissed that I didn’t have service.”

Well, the logic and the timeline certainly checked out. “So, what’s with the two girls, then?”

When Sylvain finally looked back at him, Felix saw in his face the sleepless nights, the stressful days, the lack of an outlet, and most predominantly, guilt.

“Those were my two friends. Mercedes and Annette. I owe them a lot because they’re letting me stay with them while I try to get back on my feet.”

“Mercedes is the one who gave you money?”

Sylvain nods. “She’s a godsend.”

“I can tell.”

The two fell into silence once more, though it didn’t last long. Hilda came back with their coffees and waters. “So, what can I get for ya?” she asked Sylvain.

“Oh, I guess whatever he’s getting,” Sylvain managed to say, clearing his throat at the end, smiling up at her.

“Got it. It’ll be right out.” She sighed as she walked off, leaving Felix and Sylvain in relative silence again.

“So, does this count as a date?” Sylvain joked sheepishly, smiling a bit.

Felix looked him in the eye with a deep scowl. “Absolutely not.”

“Ouch.” Sylvain laughed a little. “Well, anyway… I understand if you don’t forgive me. I kind of dropped the ball with communicating.”

“Yeah, you did.” The other man sighed. “But I shouldn’t be angry with you. You came to me even after all of that to apologize. I should be the one to apologize, so… I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.”

It felt odd apologizing like this. Felix was so used to being stubborn and headstrong, yet somehow Sylvain dragged out the decent human being in him.

After they had gotten their food and eaten some, Felix realized something. “They aren’t expecting you back at their place, are they?” he asked Sylvain, sipping his coffee.

“Nah, they know I’m with you. Not only that, but I’m a grown man. I can make sure I’m safe.” Sylvain chuckled, grinning as if he was back to his old self.

Felix shook his head and scoffed a little with a hint of a smile. “You’re something else, Sylvain…” He sighed.

There was just something about Sylvain that made Felix feel just a bit more open and honest and warm. He didn’t quite know why.

"I guess since they aren't expecting you back, would you want to sleep at my place? I have a couch and extra blankets." Felix flagged down Hilda and gave her his card. "Also, don't worry about the check. I'll get it. Give that cash back to that girl."

Sylvain's mouth was agape with surprise. "Oh, thanks, Felix," he said. "If you'll have me, I'll stay. I'll paint a portrait of you or something in the future to express my gratitude."

Felix held up his hand. "Don't even think about it. You owe me nothing more than getting yourself on your feet."

The redhead smiled and laughed. "That won't stop me from painting you."

"Just try it, pretty boy. Now come on, I'm beat. We can have a drink or two while at my place if you want. Just to wind down."

"Sure." Sylvain laughed. "Sounds like a plan.

\--

When they got to Felix's apartment, he pulled a bottle of whiskey from his top shelf, filling two glasses for the both of them.

"Cheers." They both raised their glasses and took their first sip, then their second and third. Soon, they both were on their fourth glass of whiskey.

Both were quite tipsy, but Felix was pushing the boundary of drunk. Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain was quite good with his alcohol. Their drunken conversation between sips and glasses spanned different topics in a tipsy twenty questions sort of way.

"So, the other piercings you have…" Felix slurred slightly. "You… you never said what kind you have."

Sylvain grinned into his whiskey. "Do you really want to know? Are you that curious?"

"Yeah, of course. You keep not answering my question every time I ask about it."

"Well, I can show you if you want."

"Fuckin show me, then." He took Sylvain's glass, placing it off to the side on top of a side table.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you," Sylvain replied, a slight slur to his own words. He pushed himself up off of the couch, pushing his sweat pants down enough to reveal his flaccid length that was pierced at the tip.

Felix's mouth fell open at the sight. Not only was Sylvain sizable, but one of Felix’s admittedly embarrassing fantasies was, in fact, men who had dick piercings.

"That Prince Albert is beautiful," Felix breathed, his honeyed eyes trained on Sylvain's length.

The redhead laughed a bit before lifting the length, revealing the Jacob's Ladder on the underside of the flesh. "Albert has some friends," Sylvain joked.

Felix put his own glass aside to kneel down in front of Sylvain.

"F-Felix, what are you doing?" Sylvain asked. "We're drunk, you're drunk, you shouldn't do this."

"I know what I'm doing." A tattooed hand ran a finger over the head of Sylvain's cock, earning a shiver and a quiet _fuck_ from him.

"Is it okay if I do this?" Felix breathed as he took the length into his hand and ran a thumb down the bumps where the piercings ran through.

 _One… two… three, four, five_ , Felix counted internally before Sylvain let out a suppressed moan.

"Felix, you don't have to do this," Sylvain groaned.

"Shut up. I want to do this. Question is if you want me to...." Felix nuzzled the base, a tongue flicking at the bottom-most piercing, earning another breathy swear from Sylvain. His lips quirked into a smirk as he did it one more time, earning a louder swear.

"Fuck, Fe, I do want this..." he groaned. "I've fantasized about your pretty lips around my cock…" Sylvain reached down to tilt Felix's head up toward him. "Just don't leave me hanging." 

Sylvain groaned as Felix dragged the flat of his tongue up all the piercings, then swirled it around the head of his length. "Fuck…!"

Felix smiled up at him, his lips enveloping the tip, his tongue flicking at the Prince Albert. Sylvain hissed under his breath, his hands going to Felix's head, grabbing handfuls of hair as he pushed him down to take more of the growing arousal into his mouth.

"Goddess, Fe… your mouth feels amazing..." he muttered.

Felix looked up at him, gladly going deeper and deeper before coming up with a pop for a short breath.

"You look so lovely, Fe..." Sylvain whispered huskily, his fingers caressing Felix's face, pulling him up for a clumsy kiss.

Sylvain's hands wandered down Felix's waist, then his lower back, then his ass, groping greedily. He let a heated breath escape his lips as they parted for some air. 

"I'm not dreaming this, right?" he murmured against Felix's lips.

"This better not be a fucking dream..." Felix muttered back.

Sylvain lifted Felix, laying him on the couch as he grinded against his ass. "This is the sweetest dream I've had in a long time..." he groaned into his ear.

"I'll show you a sweeter one in the bedroom," Felix gasped.

"Only if you lead."

Sylvain sat up and pulled Felix up, letting him pull him by the hand to his room. Once there, both men hungrily collided lips, their hands clawing at each other's clothes until each article of clothing dropped to the floor, immediately forgotten. Sylvain attacked Felix's neck, leaving welts with his teeth, sucking at the skin to leave deeper marks.

"Fuck, yes, Sylvain..." Felix sighed, his fingers tangling themselves in his burnished locks. In a moment of clarity, Felix blindly reached for the lube he kept in the bedside table.

"Use this." The bottle was slipped into Sylvain's hand.

Sylvain let a pleased sigh escape his lips as he popped the lid open and squeezed some out onto his fingers, pressing and rubbing them against Felix's entrance.

"Naughty, aren't you? Having a bottle like this around..." he whispered into his ear, feeling him twitch.

"Shut up…" Felix gasped, relaxing just enough for Sylvain to slip a finger inside to the first knuckle. "Oh, Goddess..." he groaned.

Sylvain pulled his finger out before pushing it deeper, dragging out moans from Felix's lips with each thrust. It was wonderful music to his ears to know that he was the source of his pleasure. He curled his finger and kissed his neck again, thrusting his own hips against Felix's leg.

He'd read about it before, anal foreplay with men. It had seemed straight-forward then, but Sylvain’s patience was waning considerably.

"Felix, I want to fuck you so bad..." he whispered into his ear. "I want to make you feel every piercing, every inch of me."

Felix shuddered and dug his nails into the freckled shoulders. "Do it…" he gasped.

Sylvain withdrew his finger and squeezed a sizable amount of lubricant onto his palm, spreading it along his length before he pushed Felix's legs up by his head. He was surprisingly flexible.

As he slid the length up and down Felix's entrance, Sylvain leaned over to kiss him hard, the prince Albert threatening to penetrate him first. His strong hands gripped Felix's cheeks, spreading them apart as he sank into him, tight and warm.

"Goddess, Fe…! You're so tight," he gasped as he rested his head against his neck.

Felix's nails dragged down Sylvain's back as he arched. "Fuck, you're bigger than I thought…! And your piercings…" He was trying to catch his breath, but it wasn't quite working.

Sylvain pulled out, feeling Felix's walls clinging to his cock, catching on each of the six piercings as he slid out. He pushed farther in, letting out a moan of sheer pleasure. "Fuck, Felix…!"

His hips started to pick up the pace as soon as he felt Felix relax around him. He was in heaven. He had to be. No one as amazing and beautiful and clever would let him do this. Yet here Felix was, a puddle of ecstasy under him.

"Sylvain…! Sylvain, yes…!" Felix cried. It was a beautiful sound.

The redhead's hand reached down to stroke Felix's cock. He wanted to see what kind of face he would make when he came.

His palmed and rubbed the head of Felix's cock, making him mewl. "Goddess, you're beautiful…" Sylvain huffed as he felt himself get closer.

Felix gasped loudly as streams of white shot onto his stomach, his insides convulsing around Sylvain.

With a gasp, Sylvain pulled out, giving himself a few tugs as he finally came as well, a pool of white liquid forming on Felix's tattooed stomach.

"Beautiful…" Sylvain panted.

"I could definitely say the same about you…" Felix sat up just enough to properly kiss. "But… I think I can go for another round…" he whispered.

"I'll go as long as you want me to."

\--

It had been a few long months since Sylvain apologized to Felix, however, he was happy. Sylvain had started an art studio where people from all walks of life could come and paint. It was with Felix's help, of course, because without him, Sylvain would have been sleeping on Mercedes and Annette's couch.

One late night at the studio, Sylvain picked up a fresh canvas. His oils were still out, eager to be used.

"Fe, honey, I still owe you that portrait, remember?" Sylvain called.

Felix looked up. "I do."

"How about we do that now? I can paint you like a Faerghan girl like I've always said." Sylvain winked at Felix, who blushed, before his molten copper irises glared back.

"Idiot… all you have to do is ask," Felix added as he walked over to give Sylvain a sweet kiss. "I'm ready to be painted like I'm your Faerghan girl…" he whispered into his ear as soon as he got close enough.

"I'll paint you prettier than all the other Faerghan girls out there," Sylvain growled playfully, laying firm, loving kisses on Felix's tattooed neck.

Felix’s fingers grabbed at Sylvain’s collar, pulling him down for a long kiss. “I’ll be holding you to that."

**Author's Note:**

> It was a lot of fun writing this. A huge thanks to the Sylvix Discord mods for running the Secret Santa Sylvix event, we couldn’t have done it without you!


End file.
